Crimson Star
by Spiffy Goddess of Death
Summary: Another is given the powers (or curse) that Vash was born with, and doesn't really like them. How will she live with that reality, and where does Knives fit into all of this?


Crimson Star By: Liz Seech  
  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun. I don't own Vash.**  
** If I owned Trigun, I wouldn't need a disclaimer.**  
  
Prologue  
Only 17 and one of the best sharpshooters around, Lyrid Phoenix stood stock still facing  
the six beer-bottle targets before her. Some men gathered behind booed at her being allowed to  
participate, but most knew her reputation and kept silent, allowing the orange-haired marksman  
to concentrate. A swift breeze playing with her hair, Lyrid adjusted the red-tinted sunglasses on  
her nose to mask her blood red gaze and steadied the polished chrome revolver she held in her  
left hand. Lyrid fixed her sights on the first bottle, placing her right hand atop the hammer,  
waiting for the signal to fire.  
  
The official, standing only twenty feet behind Lyrid's partially exposed and fully tanned  
back, looked at his stopwatch and cried, "Fire!"  
  
A single shot was heard, and only one motion observed, but as Lyrid lowered both her  
bare arms all of the bottles had disappeared from atop the half-wall. Not a trace could be  
distinguished easily, but upon closer inspection, millions of brown and clear slivers of glass  
littered the desert floor, glittering like a handful of stars in the sunlight. Tugging at her white  
and red girdle-like top, Lyrid walked confidently by the men who stood, gaping, all around and  
sat down in the official's tent, crossing her long legs idly under her black skirt. Tucking her  
weapon in it's holster, the girl waited as her competitors took their turns, toying with her loose  
hair and leaning back lazily in the shade.  
  
"The final, man-to-man, round will be played by Lyrid Phoenix and Damon Grimm!   
Sharpshooters, to your places," The same official, his old, white-crowned head shaded by a  
wide-brimmed hat, announced, sending Lyrid unhurriedly to her feet and out to the field,  
"Would all spectators please stand at least twenty feet away from the competitors!"  
  
Damon grinned evilly, his finger twitching on the trigger of his own gun, "Now you'll see  
why I'm called the Grimm Reaper! Prepare to die!"  
  
"And you'll find that none can kill a Phoenix!" Lyrid's voice was beautiful, commanding  
yet still very feminine, even as she returned Damon's boast, standing like a human statue with  
her revolver pointed at the man's head.  
  
"Ready . . . ," The old man could just be heard above the cheering, and Lyrid tensed up,  
"Begin!"  
  
At once the teen dashed to the left, red eyes gleaming behind her glasses, only just in  
time to dodge two expertly fired bullets which screamed by her right arm. Damon growled his  
distaste at her speed, jumping back a step as Lyrid retaliated with a single shot aimed for his  
knees, and crouched behind a pile of rubble. Lyrid, on the other hand, stood out in the open with  
her revolver pointing at Damon's last location. Letting the wind blow the ever-present dust  
across her face, the girl waited patiently for Damon to do something, her face a mask of calm  
stillness. Not a sound could be heard as Lyrid turned her head to either side, listening for any  
motion from her prey's hiding spot.  
  
Dust rose from the pile of rubble, and Lyrid struck, running across the small distance  
between the two competitors in less than a heartbeat. Flinging back the gun's silver hammer,  
Lyrid leapt into the air and fired two lightning fast shots before Damon even had time to blink,  
let alone cry out in pain. Lyrid landed, cat-like, not five feet away from Damon, but he only  
moved to drop his gun as the bullets in him, one centered in each shoulder, brought a spasm of  
pain boiling up to his brain like a wave breaking on him. He collapsed backward, arms  
outstretched, and screamed for the first time in his life as Lyrid propped him up for the doctors  
on hand to carry away. After that was through, Lyrid walked over to the town mayor, who stood  
up to shake her hand in congratulation.  
  
"This year's winner, as has been the case in the two years previous, is Lyrid Phoenix! As  
a prize, we award her the $$ 50,000 and a round of applause!" The mayor announced, and Lyrid  
bowed to the crowd, holding a knapsack of money in her right hand. The orange haired woman  
then thanked everyone and walked leisurely away, the money bag flung over her right shoulder,  
"Come back next year, and we'll try to have an actual challenge for you!"  
  
"Hey, I'll try, but I can't promise anything," Lyrid smiled and waved to everyone behind  
her back, kicking up dust as she left the town for her home.  
  
~~~~~*~~~~~  
  
"Mom! Dad! I'm home!" Coated in grey dust from head to toe, Lyrid shook herself off  
and jogged up the path to her family home. When no one came to the door, Lyrid stopped, her  
hand nearly on the knocker, "Where are you guys? Leonid . . . sis?"  
  
'Don't come in Lyrid!' A wave of fear came to Lyrid as she stood, frozen, in front of the  
portal to her home. There was a paralyzing effect in the mental voice, as well as a pain that had  
become very physical, and Lyrid staggered under the feeling, her face contorting in agony and  
fear, 'There's someone here with other men who want to hurt you, Sis! Run back to where you  
came from, Mom and Dad and I don't want you hurt Lyrid!'  
  
'But what about you guys? How'd they find you?' Lyrid relayed the message to Leonid,  
her twin sister, through an amazed cry in her mind.  
  
'They . . . they haven't said much about where they came from, or how they found us.   
All they've told us is that you better come soon or their trigger fingers'll get bored,' Leonid's  
mental voice was shaking with fear, and Lyrid felt her anger rising. Someone was threatening  
her family, the people she cared more than anything about, just to get at her. They deserved to  
die, to feel pain at her hands.  
  
'I've got to help you, and maybe they'll talk to me,' Lyrid tried to calm her twin down  
with her confident tone and pulled out her revolver, dropping the knapsack to the dusty sand  
below, 'I've trained to protect you guys, and I'm going to do my duty!'  
  
'But Lyrid, you don't . . . ,' Leonid pleaded, but her sister was already determined and  
turning the doorknob to come in.  
  
The instant the door was open, five guns, ranging from handguns to shotguns, were  
locked, loaded and trained on the seventeen year old's face. The weapons' wielders were just as  
varied in appearance as their sidearms, with dark and light hair, and varying expressions on their  
scarred faces from leers to outright grins which showed missing or golden teeth. Lyrid walked  
in calmly, then ran to her parents who were tied up in a corner with Leonid, her red eyes  
narrowed to slits behind her red glasses.  
  
Lyrid's parents looked hopefully to her, "I don't know how they found us, Lyrid, but  
we're sorry to cause so much trouble. You'll take care of it, right?"  
  
"Hey . . . it's not your fault! There's nothing you could have done," Lyrid said, shaking  
in anger, with tears in her eyes, "I'll do my best to get these insolent pigs out of here without  
messing up the house, Ma, but I don't know if I can."  
  
Mrs. Phoenix laughed tensely, "Go ahead, do whatever you have to dear."  
  
"See, the boss said she'd come if we had her folks!" One of the gunmen, with dark hair  
and gold-plated front teeth, pointed out and the others nodded their agreement, "Remember, we  
just wanna injure her, the rest've gotta be gone by nightfall."  
  
"Injure . . . gone? I'm not liking what you're saying!" Lyrid growled, getting off her  
knees and whirling to face the dark haired leader, "You better think twice about doing any of  
that, I might be offended."  
  
"Hah, you'll be more than offended . . . you'll be dying!" He answered, then turned to the  
rest of his company, "C'mon men, this'll be even more fun than the boss said!"  
  
'How could the killing of innocents be fun?' Lyrid thought, her gun drawn, loaded and  
aimed at the nearest man, 'Humans are such confusing things, and I don't even want to  
understand these ones. They deserve the pain I'll deal them, but I'll not enjoy this at all.'  
  
"I know," Leonid breathed, and one of the militant men cuffed her in the head, "But  
you've gotta try, sis. If we could do something, we would."  
  
"Don't you dare touch my sister!" Lyrid screamed and lashed out, shooting the offender  
in the side of the chest. He fell heavily to the earth, and Lyrid caught her breath as she realized  
what she had done. Blood pooled under the man as he struggled to breathe, and his comrades'  
anger and distaste rose at Lyrid, "You bring this on yourselves, remember that. It's your fault for  
coming to my house and threatening my family!"  
  
"That's right!" Leonid, her lip split and bleeding, managed, her golden eyes narrowed as  
much as her sister's. Flame red hair falling in newly matted waves to her waist, the girl stood up  
and shuffled over to her twin, "Lyrid's the best sharpshooter in the county, and she'll beat the  
shit outta you for doing this!"  
  
Their leader, a little amused and partially shaken, smiled devilishly, "Oh, she is, is she.   
Well, then, if that's the case, we'll just have to do this . . . !"  
  
In one swift and fluid motion the leader let loose a single bullet at the sharpshooter, and  
Lyrid cried out in deepest pain as it lodged in her left shoulder. Firing once more, the same man  
targeted Lyrid's side, and she fell pathetically to the ground, a moan escaping her lips as she  
landed. Silver spots swam in the red-eyed Lyrid's vision, and she became aware of a warm pool  
of liquid forming beneath her stomach and mingling with the stray strands of orange hair which  
lay behind her throat. She could barely see the rest of the room, and she tried to lift her head to  
catch sight of her parents as booted footfalls sounded from where she could not see, but with a  
piteous moan she fell back to the floor.   
  
"Don't hurt . . . ," Lyrid started, reaching for her lost gun with her right hand, then  
coughed up the pool of blood which had been in her throat, " . . . my family!"  
  
"Aw, look! The little brat's threatening us!" Their leader pointed out, laughing at her  
pain and frustration, and his band laughed with him, "Pay her no mind, we've got work to do!"  
  
"I said . . . don't . . . hurt them!" Lyrid growled, red splotches on her pearly teeth and full  
lips, and fired once with her revolver, hitting one man in the ankle. He yowled in pain and,  
shooting a look of darkness at the girl who barely had the strength to crawl on the dark,  
bloodstained floor, aimed his rifle at Lyrid's father, "NO! Please, no! Take me, but leave  
them!"   
  
One shot rang out, and the elder Phoenix fell, lifeless, to the floor, his perfectly pressed  
white shirt spotted with blossoms of red lifeblood which flowed relentlessly and mercilessly  
from a hole in his chest. Lyrid screamed, her thoughts whirling madly around in her head, until  
they were sucked together by one thing:  
  
Revenge.  
  
Though it was painful, and her blood ran down her knees to the ground, Lyrid managed  
through her rage to get to her knees and aim her shaking right hand at her father's killer. Leonid  
growled in rage as her twin's inner pain reached her mind, and in her angered state, the red-head  
charged the man who guarded her, knocking him to the ground. Caught up in the commotion,  
Mrs. Phoenix did the same to another man, running him into the floor, but the ambushed one's  
partner saw this and took aim at the older woman.  
  
"Don't you . . . dare!" Lyrid, still full of enough rage to blot out her pain, warned, letting  
loose a bullet of her own. The shot was wide, though, from her shaking arm, but the man's  
wasn't. The twins' mother fell in much the same way as their father had, with her hand laying  
limply on her husband's arm, and a scream of loss erupted from both of them, "Leonid . . . get  
out . . . if you can!"  
  
"I'll never leave your side, sis! They can't do this and expect to get away with it, not  
while one of us is alive!" Leonid sounded determined, and with a dark glare on her features, she  
shuffled to stand with Lyrid, "C'mon, we can take 'em! We're Phoenix's, we'll be reborn, right  
Lyird? They'll never beat us!"  
  
'Leonid, please run, I don't want to lose you too. I'll distract them, then you go,' It hurt  
to see this happening, one so proud being hurt so much in only a moment, but Lyrid wanted her  
twin to be safe, even if it meant that her own life be forfeit, 'I'm already losing it, sis, and I  
probably won't be standing much longer. Just run, 'kay?'  
  
Leonid registered the order, and her face grew frightened. Her sister, the one she looked  
to for strength, was dying, and the red puddle which grew greater by the moment at her feet was  
proof, "I'm not running away from this, Lyrid. Someone has to be strong, and now it's my turn  
to be the brave one!"  
  
"No . . . Leonid, please . . . ," Weak and saddened, Lyrid reached out to her younger twin  
as Leonid walked away, falling to her knees as her strength started to give out. Lyrid didn't want  
to leave Leonid, even as she felt her own heart cracking in despair as she saw what was sure to  
happen, but she could do nothing about it while lying flat in a pool of her own blood in the tile  
floor. It was cold where she lay, cold and detached from the horror of what had just happened,  
and Lyrid let the coldness seep inside her bones as she heard Leonid's voice cry out for help,  
"Please . . . leave her, she's only . . . a child."  
  
No one heard the bleeding woman's plea, and Lyrid felt hot tears fill her eyes and fall to  
the cold floor, unhindered as the gunmen tramped out of the Phoenix household, leaving corpses  
of slaughtered innocents in their wake. Not a sound was made afterward to disturb the newly  
departed, and the silence was depressing to Lyrid, who could always remember Leonid's golden  
laughter or her mother's call to dinner echoing through the halls.  
  
'For memories and those needlessly lost today, vengeance shall be mine, whether in this  
life or the next,' The girl vowed, though she doubted she would live long enough to fulfill her  
promise. She had lost so much blood that it was hard to think, let alone move to see Leonid, but  
she forced herself to find her flame-haired twin, wanting to be by her side in the end.  
  
Leonid lay five feet away, looking for all the world to be sweetly asleep, with a redness  
under her chest which spread to her waist. An ache forming in the depths of her heart, Lyrid lay  
beside her sister and put her arm across Leonid's back. So much pain, and such darkness at it's  
end, should never be allowed to visit one so young.  
  
'Sleep, my dear one, sleep and dream. And know that things aren't what they seem,' Lyrid murmured the poem in her mind, trying to direct it to her sister, even though Leonid didn't  
breathe beside her  
  
Silver tears mixing under her with crimson blood, Lyrid felt her awakened mind drifting  
away with the memories she had fought to keep hold of, and as she closed her eyes and slipped  
away, she heard Leonid's voice saying, ''The little death,' she says, she sighs. 'Is worth a  
thousand waking lives.''  
  
~~~~~*~~~~~  
  
Opening her eyes took far too much effort, but Lyrid tried to any ways, straining to pull  
her mind to some stage of awareness. There were voices nearby, and she wanted desperately to  
know what they were saying, hoping they were friends and not enemies.  
  
" . . . be alright, she just needs a little rest and time to sort things out. If you come back  
in two days or so, she should be ready," That man's voice was one Lyrid recognized as the town  
doctor, but who was he talking to?  
  
Lyrid let out a small moan as she tried to listen more closely to the other's words, but she  
couldn't catch it all, and what she heard didn't make much sense, "Good, and was she hurt deep  
enough?"  
  
"I didn't see firsthand, but I believe she was," The doctor answered, and Lyrid knew that  
the speech in the other room was about her, "The operation went very well, and I believe her  
implants will be active within a day. I suggest that you wait until then to see what you want me  
to do with her."  
  
"I'm sure you've done what's best, doctor," The other man stated, then laughed aloud, a  
frightening sound to Lyrid's ears, "You know, I've always wanted a little sister!"  
  
Though she wanted to hear the rest, a dull ache started in her arms, pulling all her  
attentions to them instead. It was a slight burning at first, beginning at her shoulders then  
running down to her wrists, growing in power and pain as the seconds ticked by. In a minute,  
the pain was so intense that Lyrid screamed, fighting against the straps that held her body to the  
operating table, and her consciousness started to leave.  
  
"It's starting already!? That's impossible, no one can heal that quickly, even with the  
altered DNA!" The doctor, a man with naught but a thin ring of brown hair on his round head,  
ran into the room, leaving his companion in the other room behind a closed door.  
  
Lyrid, meanwhile, was pulling at her bonds, her back bent like a bow, and her voice  
raised in pain, "It hurts! Let me go! LET ME GO!!"  
  
~~~~~*~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Journal One  
  
I don't remember what happened after that, but a few hours later I awoke to find most of  
the doctor's residence destroyed and the doctor himself at my now-freed feet, a burnt hole in his  
chest about twice the size of my fist. There was also no sign of the man the doctor had spoken  
to about me, which was odd, but strangest of all were my arms. While the rest of my body  
healed before my very eyes, the gashes and burnt skin on my lower arms and wrists didn't go  
away, which frightened me more than anything. What had the man done to me? And what was  
the pain that had just passed, and why did my mind hold no memory of what had happened?   
There were too many questions, and not enough time to answer them all, so I went to the sink  
and bandaged my arms, covering up the still-bleeding rents in my skin. In almost no time the  
white bandages were soaked red with blood, so I grabbed a dark, wide sleeved jacket and  
wandered out of Santo Diabla into the cold night, hoping that no one saw me leave.  
  
That was ages ago, though I can remember everything that happened as if it were  
yesterday. My memory is quite clear when dealing with my past, except for when the pain  
comes, then I know not what goes on. And the pain comes often, a burning that runs through my  
whole being, feeding off my anger, fear, or any other strong and dark emotion. I can't control  
the pain, which has forced me away from any cities, for fear of doing the same to the city's  
populus as I did to the doctor so long ago. It hurts to be alone, but it would hurt more if I was  
the cause of great destruction to complete strangers, and I can learn to control my inner darkness  
better when I'm alone.  
  
Although, in my memories and my dreams, I am never truly alone. 


End file.
